


like butter on toast

by puny



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puny/pseuds/puny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin shaves his legs. Haru watches, and Haru <i>wants.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	like butter on toast

**Author's Note:**

> here's some ridiculous old porn i wrote on a plane like a year ago. i think it was a prompt from way back when the kinkmeme was still alive? its kind of sloppy and sappy but it seemed such a waste not to post it
> 
> anyway whatever bon appetit

Something sort of slots into place in Haru's brain, a flash of realization. Something doesn't fit. 

"You wear legskins. You don't need to shave."

Rin clears his throat as he thinks of a lie, leg propped on a shower stool. Haru feels a surge of emotion that's entirely this idiot's fault: half adoration, half irritation, that he could be so transparent, that he could still try to hide from Haru of all people. 

"Not always," he says, and doubles his focus on his shin instead of looking at Haru. "I do own jammers, you know." 

Haru _hmm_ s noncommittally. Rin gives off a silent and palpable air of relief, thinking he's off the hook, but Haru's just flicking through memories. Rin at the starting block, kicking through the water, pulling at his waistband, water cascading down red and black Lycra, the skins creasing as he kneels, stands, struts around like he's the best in the room and he knows it... 

_Nope,_ thinks Haru. He knows with patient, concrete certainty that if Rin had ever come out of the locker room in the past year in anything but full skins, Haru would have seen (but never directly looked at) those long, pale shaved legs, filed them away in his brain. 

"No," says Haru, careful to keep his voice flat. If Rin wants to play this game, Haru's gonna make him dance. "You only wear legskins." 

Rin does look at his this time, and Haru's pretty sure he can see the bob of his throat as he swallows. 

Rin has shifted to petulance, a defensive tactic as familiar to Haru as Rin himself. He shrugs and switches his position to prop his other leg up (it does not cross Haru's mind for the slightest instant that Rin's towel hitches up, a couple inches more and a twich of fabric and—) and he shrugs, continues shaving. 

"The pros do it," he says, careful nonchalance in his voice. "Gotta prepare like I mean it, right?" 

He takes a long pause; lets Rin know that he knows it's bullshit. "Yeah." The hot pressure in his jammers is beginning to distract him from the way Rin reacts, focusing instead on the strokes of Rin's blade. Delicate around the knee, the ankle: long, fluid strokes up his shin, thigh, shaving cream disappearing in strips to reveal the pale curves of his leg muscles, taut from countless laps. Biceps femoris, thinks Haru, watching absently, wishing for a pencil and paper. Vastus lateralis. Gracilis. He knows, distantly, that Rin's putting on a show. Even in his nervousness, he's cocky enough to play with Haru like this, glancing low-lidded at him as he shakes the razor clean. He's finished. 

Haru burns. 

"You like it," he says, partially because his blood is pounding between his legs instead of in his brain, partially to see Rin flinch with his entire body and drop the razor and god, he's beautiful, Haru doesn't have names for the things he wants to do to him. 

"Haru," he snaps, "just let me shower in peace." And for a moment Haru wonders if that's all, if they're going to hold back like normal from here. But for a long second before he pulls the shower curtain closed, Rin rakes his gaze down Haru and gives a tug to adjust his towel, and that's all the confirmation needed. 

It's four steps across the room and then he's pulling the curtain aside again, Rin turning and still in his towel and still gorgeous and confused and he can't not, he really can't. Haru shoves him against the flimsy stall divider and kisses him hot and messy, slides a hand through his hair against his scalp and uses the other one to yank the towel off. Rin breathes some sort of profanity but Haru doesn't care, finishes kissing him and drops to his knees with a thud of gravity. But it's wrong, Rin's legs are too slick with the bitter shaving cream and he wants /just/ Rin so Haru grasps blindly to his left and turns the shower on and licks a wide stripe up Rin's dick as the showerhead pelts near-boiling water down on them. 

He makes a noise, low and guttural. thunks his head back against the wall. Haru roams his hands over those legs, rubs them clean and smooth, so smooth, before glancing back up. It's a crime for this boy to wear legskins, Haru decides, because Rin has truly fantastic legs. He runs his hands up calves, hamstrings, stops to suck a hickey high into one inner thigh. Already Rin looks helpless and debauched, dick obscenely hard against his pale thigh. 

Haru gets to his feet and stands so that his own legs are pressed as much as possible against Rin's, crowding him against the wall, chest to chest. When Haru slips his hand into the heat between them and starts stroking, his whole body seizes and Haru takes the opportunity to slide his other hand behind Rin, down the gorgeously straining muscles of his lower back. He grabs a taut handful of Matsuoka ass and feels a deep, long-awaited satisfaction: it is exactly as phenomenal as he can been imagining for nearly a year now. His hand slides down, fingertips finding Rin's hole. He pauses. 

"Haru," he pants, and he must be running a hundred degrees Celsius because he's a torch, a furnace, a sun up against Haru. 

"Can I," he says, into Rin's neck. "Can I." 

He can feel rather than see Rin licking his lips. The shower stings his back as Rin nods, once, twice, his knees trembling a little from what Haru isn't giving him. 

So Haru gives it to him. One finger first, and Haru had thought Rin's skin was hot but inside he burns like magma. Up to the second knuckle and he's so, so tight, breathing in a feverish way that makes Haru let go of his dick and press a palm to his side, soothing. He's so tight that Haru can hardly move his finger in or out, so he takes it slow and until Rin begins to relax incrementally. 

One of Rin's hands is gripping the wall railing to support them; the other is clamped around Haru's neck, keeping him close. No hand to spare for their dicks, notes Haru, and he's not helping either. Rin ruts and makes a sound but Haru disregards it, focusing on sensitizing Rin as he strokes, rubs, persuades him open. They don't have lube, but Haru's pretty sure that once he slides a second finger in next to his first Rin really won't last much longer. He pulls his fingers out and flips Rin round to face the wall, bending him forwards with a hand on his shoulder. 

"The fuck are you doing?" 

Haru ignores him in favor of kicking his legs together and carefully sliding his own dick into the smooth gap between Rin's thighs. 

Rin grumbles, at least until Haru pushes his fingers back in his ass. He's gasping as Haru starts to thrust, leg muscles straining round his cock. Haru pumps his hand as quickly as he thinks Rin can stand, twisting his knuckles. Rin makes a noise that's outright _anguished_ and Haru can tell, with those thighs clamped around his own dick, that Rin's imagining it in his ass instead and he nearly comes right then when someone walks into the shower room. 

They go still as stone, the only movement in the stall the persistent drumming of the showerhead. Haru prays the splattering water is loud enough to cover their breathing as the bare feet slap against the tiles. He knows full well that if whoever it is glances down they'll see two pairs of feet in one shower stall. This would maybe be funny, he thinks, if he wasn't blueballed so hard right now that his testicles probably match his eyes. 

The footsteps go out into the pool. 

Haru exhales with relief. 

"They didn't shower," mutters Rin. 

"Huh?" 

"They're getting into the water without showering," he says. "That's my pool, they can't do that—" 

Haru glares. he halfway looks like he's going to go chase them down. 

"Seriously?" 

"It's unsanitar– _OH_ ," he says, as Haru twists his fingers again and finds his prostate completely by accident. 

Haru starts moving again. He wishes, fleetingly, that he could fuck Rin properly, somewhere with sheets. Instead he strokes doubly hard at the spot he has just found as he fucks the juncture of Rin's thighs, admiring the rivulets of water sliding down his back. He almost misses it when Rin reaches down to touch himself. Haru's fast enough to grab his wrist, pin it gently up against the wall, and appreciate the near-sob he makes. 

"Fuck you," he gasps, and Haru moves faster, rubbing at Rin from the inside. He isn't sure he can come from this but his gasping need is fascinating to watch, hair plastered to his nape and those pale legs tensing, untensing, tensing.

"You should probably, ah. Come," he points out, breathing a little hard himself. 

"Fucking," he gasps, sounding wrecked. "Touch me." 

"I am," Haru reminds him. 

Rin lets out a high desperate whine, which is hot enough that Haru takes mercy on him and reaches down to stroke his dick once, twice, three times, until he's convulsing and coming on the shower wall. Haru bites his own lip and silently follows him, shaking with the strength of his own orgasm. 

"Shit," Rin says weakly, braced against the wall. 

"Mm," Haru agrees. "Come over tonight." 

"You're seriously asking that with your fingers up my ass?" He huffs. "Romantic." 

"Yeah," Haru says, and kisses the nape of his neck as he pulls his fingers out. "Will you?" 

Rin turns around, and it shouldn't give Haru warm soft feelings to watch him blush as he rinses come off his thigh. 

"Yeah," he mumbles, shutting off the shower. "okay." 

"Good," Haru whispers, suddenly loud without the splashing of the shower. He tangles his hands in Rin's hair, wipes his thumbs over wet pink cheekbones. "I'm glad." 

"Me too," says Rin, grinning shy but wide. "Me too."


End file.
